Breaking the Rules of Revenge

by Samantha Bohrman

  Ben nodded. “Got it.” His mother would have died at that speech, but he thought it seemed promising. Camp Pine Ridge was sounding better all the time. Derek certainly wasn’t going to cramp his style.

  It turned out they had time before some big camp meeting and dinner, so Ben unpacked (threw his duffle under his bed) and took a look around. There wasn’t much to see, just a bunch of bunk beds and a shared bathroom. Halfheartedly, he brushed his hands across a dusty shelf of books. A yellowed notecard declared it the B7A library. It had a James Bond novel, an old copy of The Da Vinci Code, and The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Teens. Someone’s parent clearly stuck that one in there. With a chuckle, Ben pulled out Seven Habits, surprised to see that the book was heavily dog-eared. When he opened the book, a poorly fitted dustcover fell away revealing a much more interesting title—Spite, Malice, and Revenge. Ben didn’t believe in fate, but he did believe in reading the signs. This was definitely a strong one.

  So what if Blake looked pretty in a dress? It didn’t mean she wasn’t a horrible person who’d been mean to him all year. He wasn’t ready to bury the hatchet yet. Revenge… The idea had a nice ring to it.

  Chapter Five

  Post Hot Dog Stick Incident

  Mallory

  A wooden sign over the front door of cabin G7A read the Chipmunk Bunk. Mallory took a deep breath and pushed her way in. All she’d had to do was carve a weenie stick and pretend to be her sister. A weenie stick for God’s sake! And she’d managed to stab Ben Iron Cloud in the back. She still didn’t even know what happened. She’d been holding too many sticks, and her hair had been in her face. When she’d had to walk over that pile of rocks to get around him, she’d…well, she’d stabbed him. He had looked like he wanted to murder her before that. Now… She sighed and walked through the busy cabin. Everyone was unpacking and talking fast. There was no way she was going to be able to mope properly in all this chaos.

  Proving her point, a blonde sparkplug of a counselor shouted out, “Hi, I’m Kipper. You’re in bunk number ten.” Before Mallory had a chance to respond, Kipper was already shouting, “Hi, I’m Kipper,” to the next girl.

  Mallory tried to pull herself together. She managed to nod in greeting at the girl with the bed next to hers. First order of business, she promptly walked over to the trash in the bathroom and tossed in Blake’s stupid shoes. They crashed through the bin of paper towels with a thud. She would only be Blake from the ankle up, a policy necessary to prevent further injury to innocent bystanders and herself. If she had to go to the emergency room, she’d have to produce an insurance card, a medical history, and basically compromise the whole mission by providing medical facts that didn’t correspond to Blake’s files, such as, “Has asthma!” and then she’d have to choose between outing herself and breathing.

  Just then, “HiI’mKipper!” called the bunkhouse to order. She rang a bell and announced, “Now that we’ve all met, let’s go over the cabin rules.” Kipper was cheerful in an unblinking laser-like way. “Our core values at the Chipmunk Bunk are friendship and chipmunks.”

  Mallory wondered how chipmunks could be a value.

  “Chipmunks live in burrows, as you know.”

  She hadn’t known that, actually.

  “Chipmunks keep their burrows spic and span and clear of all shells and feces, which they store in refuse tunnels. All garbage needs to go in here.” She pointed to a garbage can. “All feces goes into the refuse tunnel.” Mallory glanced to the girls at her side to gauge their reactions to Kipper. “But feel free to chew with your mouths full.” Kipper forced out a high-pitched giggle and looked around, as if she were waiting for the others to join her.

  Mallory felt a little scared.

  The girl to her left raised her hand and asked, “What kind of chipmunks are we supposed to be, eastern or western?”

  “Good question.” Kipper gave a nod of approval. “Eastern, obviously.”

  Mallory assumed that Kipper had exhausted her chipmunk scenario, but she kept going. She just stopped speaking English, switching seamlessly to “Chip…chip…chip.” A few of the girls looked out the window, probably thinking the oversized rodent chatter was coming from outside. Unfortunately, it was coming from Kipper. “When I give the chipmunk call, it’s time to get to the bunks.” She chattered again. “That means time to get up! I’m going to post an abridged list of the rules on the wall for your reference.”

  The abridged list was about twenty points long and covered everything from bedtime, shower shoes, appropriate noise levels, and a ban on actual chipmunks in the cabin. Mallory bet that was added to address a chipmunk prank.

  “Okay, Chipmunks! Right now, I want you to scamper around and get your bunks in order.”

  Mallory looked at a girl with a reaction to Kipper that mirrored her own and tested the water. “I think she stretched that metaphor about as far as it could go.”

  With a bright twinkle in her eye, the other girl said, “Oh, I’d get ready for more. Last year we had chipmunk names.” She held out her hand and said, “Before Kipper tells you otherwise, my name is Zoe.”

  Mallory laughed. “I’m…Blake.” Mallory told herself the lie was okay because she’d never see Zoe again, but it felt bad. She hated lying.

  Zoe wore a midriff-baring shirt with “Bitch Relax” on it that she’d paired with a bowling jacket. Her lips were painted reddish-blackish. Instead of looking tough, she looked ready to do some backup dancing in an edgy music video. She was the Rihanna to Mallory’s Taylor Swift. Feeling relaxed, just as Zoe’s shirt ordered, Mallory opened up her bag. Oh God. She was going to be one sparkly, pink, bikini-clad chipmunk this summer.

  Uncomfortable with the number of bikinis her twin had packed, she moved on to the books. She’d brought all of her Jane Austens in a convenient bound anthology because she couldn’t go anywhere without Jane, her Brontës (also in a single volume anthology), and a selection of romances.

  Before she could finish unpacking, Kipper chirped a few times in Chipmunkese and announced, “Okay, everyone, let’s head down to the meeting.” She looked at Zoe’s shirt and said, “Why don’t you all change into your camp T-shirts first actually.”

  “I didn’t think we had a dress code,” said Zoe.

  Kipper looked pointedly at Zoe’s “Bitch Relax” shirt. “No, but you can’t wear that.”

  Camp-issued T-shirts—that would have been nice to know before hauling half of Blake’s closet here. Even if the T-shirts weren’t required, they would save her from having to decide what to wear in the morning. Mallory was the girl who had always wanted a uniform. Thrilled to be rid of her fancy dress, she changed into her new T-shirt and threw The Accidental Duchess into her shoulder bag.

  At the meeting, all of the campers, big and small, plopped on the lawn. Fozzie, who everyone seemed to love, stood up in front of the crowd. “Welcome to Camp Pine Ridge. We’re so glad to have you. This is an exciting time of year for all of us. It’s time to reconnect with nature, good friends, and go on a journey of self-discovery.”

  Zoe rolled her eyes and said, “Gross. Self-discovery.”

  Mallory looked longingly at her book. She wondered if anyone would notice if she read a chapter or two…

  She tucked her feet under her and leaned back against a tree. She was only a quarter of the way in to The Accidental Duchess. Lydia, who was running from the law, had decided to play along when the Duke of Blackmore assumed she was his fiancée. If she managed to become a duchess, she would be above the law. Lydia was in for a surprise, though. Blackmore had just revealed that he didn’t want a fiancée. His mother had arranged the marriage. His heart was set on sabotage.

  Mallory had chills. She was Lydia Farrow. Maybe pretending to be her sister at camp wasn’t quite as high stakes as pretending to be a duke’s fiancée, but close enough.

  Zoe elbowed Mallory. “Blake, put your book down, you’re missing everything.”

  Mallory focused on the director, and Zoe said, “No, stupid, I
mean over there.” She followed Zoe’s finger, which was—of course—pointing at Ben. “I call dibs!” Zoe said in a half-joking tone.

  Mallory sighed. “Better you than me.”

  “What do you mean? Is he a jerk or something? He’s from Bellevue, too, right?”

  Mallory nodded. “We have a…complicated relationship.” To say the least. “He hates me, which totally just got worse.” It was almost too stupid and mortifying to say, but she spit it out. “We were just helping Fozzie set up the bonfire and I…I accidentally stabbed him with a weenie stick.”

  Zoe stared for a second until she realized Mallory was serious. Then she started laughing. “Well, you must not have got him in a vital organ. He looks fine to me.”

  That was a good point. The guy appeared to have lost zero blood. In fact, he looked ready for a sexiest camper photo shoot. Mallory breathed easier. “That makes me feel a little better. I was feeling awful. He looked like he wanted to murder me.”

  “Pshaw.” Zoe waved off Mallory’s worries. “He’s fine. Why don’t you introduce me later?”

  When everyone started standing up in a purposeful way, Mallory tuned into whatever Fozzie was saying. “Campers with names starting A through F go with Derek.”

  “If your last name begins with G through K, go with Kipper, L through Q go with Dane. The rest come with me.”

  “What’s going on?” she asked Zoe.

  Zoe shrugged. “Beats me. Some kind of get-to-know-each-other thing, I think.”

  Mallory slowly wandered over to the crowd gathering around Kipper. “God, I hate icebreakers.”

  “Me, too.” Surprised, she turned to see Ben was the voice of assent, but then again, they were only a K apart, one very large K. The K might as well be a mountain range, a seismically active mountain range with a volcano shaped like a K.

  Ben did a double take when he saw who he’d just agreed with. He scowled and said, “I didn’t recognize you.”

  Me, either was Mallory’s first thought. It was hard to remember to be Blake with so many other new things happening.

  Maybe this was a good opportunity to deal with weenie stick fallout. “How’s the—?”

  “Stab wound?” he completed her sentence.

  Kipper interrupted whatever else he’d planned to say and announced, “I have a really simple activity planned. We’re going to break into groups of twos. I will give each pair a list of questions to answer. After you get to know your partner, you’ll introduce him or her to the group.”

  Ben started looking around for a partner besides Mallory. She did the same, but everyone else paired off in an instant, even Zoe. Seeing their reluctance, Kipper said, “Blake, pair off with this young man.” She handed them each a little questionnaire.

  “I think we’ve already done enough ice breaking today,” he said in a super dry voice.

  Mallory cringed. “I really didn’t mean to do that you know. It isn’t bad is it?”

  He flashed her a look that said he wasn’t convinced and said, “They’re taking me to town for a minor surgery later, to remove the spear tip.”

  Her jaw dropped. “No.”

  He cracked a smile. “Yeah, it’s fine. You’ll have to aim higher next time.”

  She couldn’t blame him, but really, even her sister wouldn’t have tried to take him out with a hot dog stick. With a sigh, she glanced at the sheet Kipper had handed her.

  What’s your name?

  Where are you from?

  What are your hobbies?

  What do you want to be when you graduate?

  Most embarrassing moment?

  Biggest pet peeve?

  Something no one else knows about you?

  “This should be easy,” Ben said. “Blake from Sofia enjoys looking in the mirror and organizing her makeup collection.”

  Mallory had to admit, the real Blake did enjoy those things.

  “She wants to be an evil mastermind slash purse designer when she grows up.”

  Mallory could see Blake putting her name on a line of purses, but design wasn’t really her thing. More like property management. Blake would be a great slumlord.

  Ben tapped his foot, thinking. “Blake has never had an embarrassing moment, and biggest pet peeve must be people weaker than herself. You’ll have to fill in the last question, though.”

  Mallory shrugged. He might have her sister’s number, but he was way more bitter than she’d realized. She fought her personal inclination to apologize profusely and channeled her sister with the snappiest thing she could come up with. “Wow. That’s incredible. You should be a career counselor or maybe a psychic.”

  He chuckled a little and Mallory basked in the mild success of being less terrible at snappy comebacks than she’d expected to be.

  “What about the last question?” He dropped his disinterested facade for a second and looked at her curiously. “What’s something no one else knows about you?”

  Mallory didn’t stop and think about that one. She gave him a half smile and said coyly, “That one’s actually easy. I’m not who you think I am. Everything the world sees is a lie.” Her answer was true on so many levels. She was a lie, but so was Blake. All her bad behavior was a cover for something softer underneath, a bittersweet candy coating.

  With a snort, he said, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Mallory just couldn’t win with this guy. She said, “Okay, Ben Iron Cloud from Sofia, what do you want to be when you graduate? I actually have no clue.”

  His arms crossed over his chest, he said, “I never want to worry about money. Whatever gets me there is fine.”

  She didn’t believe that for a second. “What if it’s cleaning out vats of fish guts? There’s no way you’d do that. I can’t see it.”

  He shrugged like fish guts were no big deal.

  She amended, “So what if you take money out of the equation, would you rather be a fish gutter, a doctor, or…” She stopped to think about what she knew of Ben. “A high school math teacher?”

  Surprise flickered in his eyes. “How did you know that?”

  Mallory squealed. “I’m right! You want to be a math teacher.” That was actually really sweet. She could see Ben doing that. She’d eavesdropped once when he was tutoring someone in algebra. He was so much more patient than she would have expected, especially for a football player.

  “Okay, next question. What’s your most embarrassing moment?” she asked.

  He let out a half laugh. “That’s easy. Every time you get an idea, it usually leads to my next embarrassing moment.”

  “Biggest pet peeve?”

  The moment of semi-camaraderie withered. Ben gave her a scathing glare. “I hate liars.”

  Mallory’s jaw dropped. The way he’d said it while looking into her eyes made her feel like he’d said, “I hate you.” She suddenly understood why Blake was always throwing herself onto the couch saying her life was over. Being Blake was painful. Mallory was going to need serious counseling after posing as her sister for six weeks.

  All Mallory wanted to do was go to sleep. Day one of Summer Camp felt like she’d done a triathlon while wearing a sparkly dance costume and smiling at the crowd. As she walked to the cabin, she heard someone call out to her.

  “Blake, can I have a word?” Fozzie was coming toward her with a purposeful stride. He caught her right before she mounted the steps of G7A. “I’ve called your name about ten times, young lady.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.” She was too tired to remember she was supposed to be Blake. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “I wanted to check in with you about your special, er, situation at camp.”

  The hits just kept coming. Blake wasn’t taking it easy on her.

  “I mean, er, the fact that you were sent here for punitive reasons.”

  Mallory blushed fiercely. She hadn’t realized Fozzie was part of the punishment plan. She prayed he hadn’t developed a special boot camp curriculum just for Blake.
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br />   Fozzie swallowed uncomfortably. “I wanted to let you know how I see my role and yours, considering this is a nontraditional arrangement.”

  Mallory nodded mutely.

  “I’m a camp director. I have no desire to act as your jailer. I don’t know what led anyone to believe Camp Pine Ridge could work as a punishment. We are a normal kids’ camp. People look forward to coming here.” He looked around and said, somewhat defensively, “This is a nice place!”

  Mallory nodded in agreement because he seemed to want reassurance. “I know. No one thinks it is a punishment.” Blake could have committed murder in Sofia, and she would have gotten community service and time served. The town did not serve out justice in an equal or unbiased manner whenever her father got involved.

  “I’m not going to watch you, but I’m also not going to give you any leeway. If you mess up, you’re out.”

  Mallory started to sweat and felt her breathing tighten. She reached for her inhaler.

  Scary speech officially over, Fozzie smiled and held out his hand. “Shake on it?”

  She offered him a limp hand to shake. Behaving shouldn’t be a problem. Still, being in this position made her uncomfortable. She and Blake had a very clear agreement—Mallory would attend Camp Pine Ridge for Blake. The only thing Blake had to do in return was pass Algebra 2 for Mallory during summer school. If the plan went belly up, Blake wouldn’t hold up her end of the bargain, and if she didn’t pass Algebra 2 for Mallory, she’d have to take it herself. She’d already tried that once. If Blake could just get her through algebra, she’d be home free to geometry. Triangles didn’t scare her. Sentences made from numbers instead of words, though, were the work of the devil.

  All she had to do was be Blake for six weeks, which she wanted anyway. Be Blake, become the kind of girl someone might ask to prom someday, and pass math by proxy. In the meantime, she was going to hurry back to her bunk and forget who she was and who she was supposed to be for half an hour. The duke was calling.